


A Spark of Warmth

by 0hHeyThereBigBadWolf



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Do Not Re-Post To Another Site, Good Mordred (Merlin), Kilgharrah? Who's That?, M/M, Magic Lessons, S5? Never Heard Of It, Screw Destiny, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22937224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf/pseuds/0hHeyThereBigBadWolf
Summary: Mordred is so accustomed to using a sword that he's almost forgotten all his magic is capable of. Thankfully, he has a good teacher to remind him.
Relationships: Merlin/Mordred (Merlin)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 222





	A Spark of Warmth

"You're trying too hard."

Mordred heaves a heavy sigh and tries not to roll his eyes as he stares at a lightning-struck birch tree. Looking downwards, he shifts his hold on his new focus, settling his grip more securely around it. He's not needed a focus since he was a boy trying not to set his bedding on fire every time he had a nightmare. It isn't quite a wand; it's made from the antler of a stag, broken off at the very base and polished off into a smooth end. Emrys had given it to him. "I'm more used to holding a sword now," he says quietly. He's become so accustomed to having his magic be a weapon that he can scarce remember the last time he used it otherwise.

"The sword isn't a part of you. Your magic is." The solid heat of him draws close, sinking in through Mordred's clothes. "Relax. Stop using your _physical_ strength and remember your _mental_ strength. Eyes closed."

Mordred closes his eyes. "Mm, very helpful. Do you suppose spellcasting blind is better or worse than shooting a crossbow blind? Gwaine and I did that once," he remarks dryly and can't quite help his surprised squeak when his ear is tweaked.

"Hush. Just…listen."

Birds greet the spring with piping song, bright and flitting. It isn't quite warm enough for the cacophony of insects to have gained full volume, but he can still hear the gentle hum from a nearby honey tree. A light breeze stirs, rustling the new leaves with a sighing whisper. And underneath, beneath the surface song, the energy of the earth, deep and slow like a great, terrible heartbeat, reverberating in every living thing. He'd almost forgotten.

"Good. Now try again. Not from here." Emrys's hands curl around Mordred's upper arms. "From here." One hand reaches further around, palm pressed flat over his breastbone.

Mordred curls his hand tighter around the antler, remembering the life it had once belonged to, the curve of it sitting just right in his palm. He breathes in slowly, drawing that energy into him, but it is _part_ of him too, merely another link in a never-ending chain, spirals within spirals. He lets his breath out again, feeling that power slide out of him again.

"Open."

When Mordred's eyes open, what was once peeling dead bark and char is now a full chalky grey-white tree bursting with new growth, unfurling tender new leaves to the warm spring sky. He huffs out a laugh in surprise.

Emrys leans against his back, breath warm and sweet against the shell of his ear, and Mordred feels a new sort of warmth blooming in his chest, spreading outwards through his ribs. "Well done," he murmurs and presses a feather-light kiss into his hair.


End file.
